Rise From The Ash
by Kaetien
Summary: Years after the Blood's purging, some cast Jewels aside in the search for science and knowledge. But when the Realms begin to collapse, those who have forgotten must return to the old ways again. Ch 1: Daemonar and KaeAskavi search for answers.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer:** I own none of the characters in this fan-fiction. All is property of Anne Bishop. I make no profit out of writing this - no infringement was intended. 

**Author's Notes:** This is something of a new genre for me - I've never written any thing of this sort, so any feedback would be adored. Please review!

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**Rise From The Ash  
**By Kaetien

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**~1/Kaeleer~**

The dappled morning sunlight caught on the delicate strands, silver spider-silk stretched taught in a tangled web. Woven between the same boulder and a nearby tree as Witch's web had been two years ago, the Queen of Arachna could almost taste the memory lingering on the still air. She could still recall with clarity all that she had seen in the previous web, etched into her mind by the cold realization that the path recklessly taken could have been deadly.

But this web was different somehow. Different to the one Witch had previously spun, yet both were alike. Both foreboding. The veiled visions and dreams leaked their oppressive weight into the crisp air.

*You speak your troubles?* the spider asked softly.

From where she stood, leaning against the side of the tree, Jaenelle's sapphire gaze flickered uncertainly between the spider's and the fragile web. Jaenelle did not reply. She inhaled slowly, eyes clouding with doubt. Biting her lip slightly and staring unblinkingly at her tangled web, Jaenelle tensed as if to speak, but remained silent. Fear. The spider could sense the suppressed emotion flavouring the air, and shifted from her perch atop the boulder.

The Arachnian Queen would not normally open her mind to the dreams and visions within the web without Jaenelle's permission, out of respect. But there was little that could affect Witch thus, and a vision that left Jaenelle so unsettled could only be a sign of ill things to come. Even Jaenelle, with her strong Craft, could not keep her feelings leashed; could not hide the fear from her Sister Queen. The spider issued a low buzz with her own Craft.

*What you see in web?*

A pause.

"I'm not sure," Jaenelle whispered. "This web carries uncertainty in its threads." Crouching, she brushed a sun-kissed strand with her fingertips. "Kaeleer Terreille" Her fingers brushed another. "And Hell." As she touched the last, a strange expression frosted her ancient sapphire eyes. They glazed slightly as a vision flooded her mind. Jaenelle shook her head and rose to her feet. "This web" she trailed off slowly.

*You doubt yourself. You doubt your strength.*

Jaenelle's eyes narrowed. "This web is missing something, but I'm not sure what it is." A frustrated smile tugged at her lips. "It reveals half-visions. Half-dreams. I cannot see the entire truth through the fog."

*But is bad?*

"Yes, Sister Queen," Jaenelle answered quietly. "It is bad." 

*Like before?*

"No. It will be different." 

*What you see?* the spider asked again.

"I don't know. But what will come is inevitable. It will be years yet, but when it does, we must face it." She glanced at the Queen of Arachna. "This is an event that we cannot prevent. Many will die, and the knowledge will only instil fear throughout the Realms. No others can know of this." Sweeping her fingers lightly through the threads, Jaenelle destroyed the tangled web.

*Sacrifices have been made in the past,* the spider reasoned. *Surely there is prevention. A measure we can take.*

"It will not be enough. I will do all that I can, but we have no time to garner the strength that will be required of us. The Blood will be tested again."

*Soon?*

She hesitated. "After my lifetime."

The spider thought for a moment, watching the golden-haired woman intently. So many dreamers had given life to the special web that had become Witch. Dreams made flesh. *Witch not stand with Blood?* the Arachnian Queen asked, already knowing the answer.

"No." Jaenelle replied, her voice soft. She stood to leave. "The dreams have little time in this flesh."

  
_To Be Continued_  



	2. Chapter I: Enter The Darkness

**Disclaimer:** I own none of the characters in this fan-fiction. All is property of Anne Bishop. I make no profit out of writing this - no infringement was intended.

**Author's Notes:** Firstly, thank-you to everybody who reviewed! You guys are great. I really appreciate the encouragement. ^^

Secondly, this chapter may seem a little confusing. All shall be explained soon, so please bear with me! If you're confused by anything, feel free ask. Any flames will be used to keep me toasty warm, as it's winter (and relatively cold) where I live. *huddles close to laptop, trying to keep warm*

Sorry about the slow update, but I'm completely snowed under with homework at the moment..

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**Rise From The Ash  
**By Kaetien

  
**Chapter I: Enter The Darkness**  
  
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_Four hundred years later…_  
  
**~1/Kaeleer~**

Daemonar gingerly picked his way through the rubble, straining his eyes to make sense of black silhouettes. He strengthened his ebon-gray shield and glanced about the darkened streets warily. The road was strewn with debris, and the husk of what had once been a carriage lay on its side, wheels turning on their hinges in the icy breeze. Hoping perhaps to find his quarry in the bleakness, Daemonar searched his surroundings carefully, extending a delicate probe with Craft.

Nothing.

There was nothing living left amongst these buildings. The place reeked of death and corruption, and the foul stench of decay wormed its way into his lungs. It was hard to believe that this seemingly endless labyrinth of ruins had once been the capital of Little Terreille. The reality that such a flourishing place as Goth could be reduced to a graveyard in the space of barely a hundred years was an ill omen for those other cities in the Realm that stood upon the brink of civil war.

Crumbling multi-storey buildings stretched into the sky, broken windows empty. As Daemonar passed further into the depths of the fallen city, the air pressed in closer about him as a pallid mist flooded through the streets. He brushed an errant strand of damp hair away from his face, and hesitated. Ahead, there echoed a rumble as an unseen structure collapsed. 

*KaeAskavi?* He sent the thought to the Arcerian on a gray spear thread and stopped, waiting for a reply. The only possible downside of working with the full-grown Arcerian was the fact that the feline had a constant sight shield raised, and while any potential enemies couldn't see him, neither could Daemonar. He had no way of knowing how far away KaeAskavi was, and called in a long hunting blade. There were others who also walked the dead city, and he did not care to meet them unarmed, nor unprepared.

The last clatter of showering rubble faded into silence and, after a moment, he felt a familiar brush against his mind.

*It is nothing.*

Daemonar exhaled slowly in relief. *Can you sense her?*

There was a long pause. *No,* KaeAskavi replied finally. *But we will find her.*

The Eyrien sighed. *I don't like this place. Why would she be here?*

A little ripple of thought from KaeAskavi that Daemonar interpreted as a mental shrug. 

The buildings fell away as Daemonar emerged into a square strewn with decay and lined by collapsed pavilions. This town centre was all that was left recognizable by the brutal erosion of war and death. A circular fountain set in the middle of the square stood alone in the darkness, silhouetted faintly against the stars. The statue of a rearing unicorn stood upon the monument, and by upon its back a young girl. Little Terreille had never existed as part of Witch's territory, but the fountain had been installed in memory. 

_ For remembrance. As a reminder._

But who now was left to remember? Little Terreille was a dead city - the few who remained had little time for memories and ideals in a world where strength was the only barrier between life and returning to the Darkness or becoming demon dead. 

*A male approaches,* KaeAskavi warned, interrupting his thoughts. His light tenor was uneasy.

*Where?*

*The cluster of human dens to the north.*

A flicker of sapphire-jewelled strength, then nothing. Daemonar probed the area again. *I can't sense him. Something's not right.* A chill settled in his stomach. 

*He draws his blade!*

The snarl of the enraged Arcerian echoed through the square, and a terrified squeal shattered the night. The stillness descended into pandemonium as the sapphire-jewelled warlord was batted into the square. KaeAskavi bounded after him, like a white ghost in the darkness. A sudden torrent of furious black strength nearly shattered Daemonar's shield, and he was forced to reach into his reserves to steady it. 

A green-jewelled prince stepped from his watch in the shadows of an alleyway, spreading his wings to their full span in a challenge. He called in a wicked dagger and levelled it at Daemonar menacingly.

"Call off your friend, or we shall take an arm for an arm." His golden eyes glinted unpleasantly. "A wing for a wing."

"We?" Daemonar demanded. A soft footstep sounded behind him.

"We, whose territory you have entered," the black-jewelled warlord purred, close to his ear. A sharp blade pressed against the side of his throat. "And for that, you must pay the penalty of death."  
  


_To Be Continued…  
_

  
**A/N:** Well? What did you think? Short chapter, I know, I'm sorry. *hangs head in shame* I just find it easier to write in short little bursts. But aside from that, please let me know what you think! *points* There's a little button there in the lower left hand corner... ^^


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